Exodus from the Long Sun

Chapter 16 — Exodus from the Long Sun

They floated in an infinite emptiness lit by a remote, spool-shaped black sun: Sciathan the Flier, Patera Incus and Patera Remora, the old woman who called herself Moly, Nettle and Horn, the calde’s wife, and the calde. The shrinking red dot that was the lander winked out.

“Good-bye, Auk my noctolater.” The speaker seemed near, though there was a note in his voice that had traveled far; it was a man’s voice, deep, and heavy with sorrow.

“Good-bye, Auk,” Silk repeated; until he heard his own voice, he did not realize he had spoken aloud. “Good-bye, sister. Good-bye, Gib. Farewell.”

Maytera Marble murmured, “Heartbroken. Poor General Mint will be simply heartbroken.”

“He goes to a better place than any you have seen.”

“I disliked him, though the harlot Chenille was not devoid of pre-eminent qualities. Notwithstanding, I feel bereft…”

So softly that Silk supposed that only he could hear her, Hyacinth inquired, “Is that where? Those little dots?”

“To one or the other,” the god replied. “The blue whorl or the green. Auk’s lander ca

“Auk — ah. Devoted to you, eh? As we, um, all. He was, er, reformed? Devout. If you are not, um, hey?”

There was no reply. The distant sparks faded. Hyacinth gripped Silk’s arm, pointing to the black, spool-shaped sun behind them, from which light streamed. “What is that? Is it — is it…? The lander came out of it.”

“That is our Whorl” Sciathan wiped his eyes.

“That little thing?”

Already the little thing was fading; Silk relaxed. “You liked Auk, didn’t you? So did I. If I live as long as His Cognizance, I won’t forget meeting him in the Cock, sipping brandy while I tried to make out his face in the shadows.”

“When I saw Aer die, I did not weep. That pain was too deep for weeping. Auk is not dead, but no one will call me Upstairs any more. I weep for that.”

“Wish that he stated, um, unequivocally, eh?” Remora had already activated his propulsion module and was drifting toward the circular aperture. “Is — um — Great Pas satisfied? Is this adequate? Sufficient?”

Silk and Hyacinth followed him. Silk said, “If he were, we Cargo would return to our herds and fields. Auk has bought us a brief respite, that’s all. Pas will not be satisfied until the last person in the whorl has gone. It has served its purpose.”

They emerged into the penumbra, shade that seemed blinding light after the darkness. “I don’t see how Tartaros showed us the whorl from outside,” Hyacinth murmured. “There can’t be an eye out there, can there?” When Silk did not reply, “I don’t like not walking. My thighs are getting fat, I can feel it.”

Maytera Marble overtook them. “They can’t be, dear, you don’t eat anything. I’m worried about you.”

“I don’t like people seeing up my gown, either. I know it sounds silly, but I don’t. Every time I feel like somebody’s looking up there my thighs swell up and never go back down.”

“There is no up,” Incus called as he accelerated toward them, “nor is there any down. All is a realm of light.”

“The, um, deceased.” Remora glanced back at him, vaguely worried. “How shall we explain that, Your Eminence? The, um, faithful, eh? They expect the — ah — dear decedent.”

“Do you desire a visitation by your dead?” Sciathan asked.

Silk said flimly, “No.” Hyacinth’s jaw dropped, and for a moment her sculptured face looked foolish.

Silk decelerated to allow Sciathan to catch up. “I speak only for myself. I’ve met mine, and know and love them. The temptation to rejoin them would be too great. I know your offer was well intended but no, I do not.”

“There is no physicality,” the little Flier explained. “Mainframe recreates them and beams the data to one’s mind.”

“Moly, would you escort Hyacinth back to the airship for me, please? I have to confer with Sciathan.” Silk took the Flier’s arm.

Horn asked, “Can we come?” Silk hesitated, then shook his head; Oreb launched himself from Horn’s shoulder to flap after them upside down.

One by one the pilot was testing the engines; Horn counted as each coughed, roared to life, and declined to a hum.

Nettle asked, “Aren’t you going to knock?”

He would have preferred that she do it, but could not say so. “What on?”

“On the frame, I guess. They’re pretty solid.”

Silk pushed the curtain to one side as Horn raised his fist. “Hyacinth isn’t here. Were you looking for me?”

Both nodded.

“Very well, what can I do for you?”

Horn cleared his throat. “You promised me you wouldn’t go up on the roof again, Calde. Remember?”

“Of course. I’ve kept my promise.”

“Me and Nettle have been up there,” Horn said, and Oreb applauded with joyful wings.

Nettle said, “It’s not scary when you can float.” Her eyes appealed to Horn, who added, “We want you to go up with us.”

“You’re releasing me from my promise?”

Horn nodded. “Yeah.”

“Say yes, Horn.” Silk looked thoughtful. “You bear the repute of your palaestra.”

“Yes, Calde. Calde, is Patera Remora really going to be our new augur?”

“No.” Absentmindedly, Silk glanced around the cubicle for his propulsion module before remembering that he had returned it. “He ca

“Bird save!”

“Yes, if I’m adrift you must tow me to safety.”

“There’s supplies in the last gondola,” Horn explained as Silk pushed off from the doorway. “We found a coil of rope in there. The table in the chartroom’s bolted down, so we tie onto the legs.”

“It’s better than having that thing on your back,” Nettle told Silk. “You just float around without having to worry about anything. When you’re tired of it, you pull yourself in.”

Horn added, “But I don’t get tired of it.”

“There’s something you want me to see.” They had floated through the officers’ sleeping quarters; Silk stopped, bulging the canvas partition, and opened the door to the messroom.

“Just — just everything you can see from out there.”

“Something to ask, in that case.”

In the chartroom, Silk knotted the finger-thick line about his waist in accordance with Horn’s instructions and pushed off from the table, out through the open hatch.

The airship had revolved, whether from the torque of its engines or the pressure of some passing breeze, until Mainframe stood upright as a wall, its black slabs of colossal mechanism jutting toward them and its Pylon an endless bridge that dwarfed the airship and vanished into night.

Horn gestured. “See, Calde? We don’t have to sit on the edge, but we can go over there if you want to. Way, way down you can see the Mountains That Look At Mountains, I guess. It’s kind of blue at first, then so bright you can’t be sure.”

Nettle emerged from the hatch. “I still don’t understand what Mainframe is, Calde. Just all those things with the lights ru

“This is Mainframe,” Silk told her. “You are seeing it.”

“The big square things?”

“With what underlies its meadows and lawns; Mainframe is dispersed among them all. Imagine millions of millions of tiny circuits like those in a card — billions of billions, actually. The warmth of each is less than the twinkle of a firefly; but there are so many that if they were packed together their own heat would destroy them. They would become a second sun. As things are it is always summer here, thanks to those circuits.”

“That’s what you call the little wiggly gold lines in card?” Nettle inquired. “Circuits? They don’t do anything.”